


Two Years

by annalyia



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, I've had this in my brain for a bit, M/M, Sorry it's short, literally just shameless fluff, so here ya go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalyia/pseuds/annalyia
Summary: it's been two long years since Inquisitor Dareth Lavellan has seen Dorian





	

Mother Giselle smiles at Dareth.  “And of course,” she says, “there is the Tevinter ambassador.” 

 “The Imperium sent an ambassador?” Dareth asks in a voice much too quiet and gentle for a person in his position of power. 

“Yes, Your Worship.  Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter.  It will be good to see him again.  I owe him my apology.  I allowed my distrust of Tevinter to cloud my judgement.  I am glad that you saw more clearly than I did.” 

“You’re going to apologize?  To Dorian?”  Dareth does not even realize that he is asking Mother Giselle a question.

Dorian.

Here?

Frowning, the Chantry mother replies, “I have little patience for those who cannot admit they were wrong, Your Worship.  Myself included.”  She sighs.  “I will have to make my apology somewhere public – he will want an audience for his reaction.” 

Dareth smiles slightly because she is right; his vhenan would settle for nothing less than a spectacle.  “Thank you, Mother Giselle,” he says.  The elf quickly turns on his heel before the woman can ask him anything else. 

Once he is out of earshot, the Inquisitor drops his façade.  His breathing becomes ragged and he supports himself against the nearest wall.

Dorian is here. 

Dareth wonders why he was not informed of this earlier – surely Josie or Leliana would have thought it an important detail to note in their meetings?  Unless, of course, this was a last minute ordeal, which would not be surprising.  

“Inquisitor?  Are you quite all right?”

Glancing up, Dareth sees Josephine, a concerned expression on her face.  She extends her hand to him, which he gladly takes, hoisting himself up. 

Dareth nods, forcing a weak smile at the same time.  “I have just, ah, become aware of something.”

“Does it trouble you?”  She pauses.  “May I ask what it is you have learned?”

Dareth takes another shaky breath.  “It would seem that Tevinter has sent an ambassador.”

Josie’s eyebrows arch.  “And, let me guess, that ambassador just so happens to be a dashing mage named Dorian Pavus?”  Dareth merely meets her eyes.  “It seems strange that we were not made aware of that small point,” she says, pursing her lips.  “Is there anything that I can do to assist you, Inquisitor?”

“No, Josie, but thank you.”  Dareth stands up straight and breathes deeply.  “This is something that I should handle myself.” 

“If it helps, he is probably out in the courtyard, conversing with the other ambassadors,” Josie says, gently resting her hand against the Inquisitor’s arm.  “Good luck.”  And with that, she turns and walks towards the exterior of the palace. 

Dorian is here.

Dareth keeps repeating the phrase to himself, each time adding another knot to his stomach. 

His vhenan is _here_. 

It’s been two years.

Two years since the Inquisitor has seen the man he loves.  Two years since Dorian has smiled at one of Dareth’s jokes.  Two years since Dareth watched Dorian leave Skyhold, true sadness in those grey eyes as he gave Dareth one final kiss goodbye. 

Two years is a long time, Dareth realizes. 

Has his vhenan changed much?  Has Dorian lost the ease with which he moves and thinks and breathes?  Has his taste in clothes changed?  Does he still chew on his lip while reading?  Do his eyes still crinkle at the corners when he is amused but does not wish to show it?

Does he still love Dareth as much as he did that final day at Skyhold?

All these questions and more settle themselves uneasily into the bottom of Dareth’s stomach, making him wonder if he should have skipped breakfast that morning. 

 _Dorian is here_.

Dareth knows he should not be this surprised.

Doing his best not to walk too briskly, Dareth exits the palace and makes his way down the stairs.  He smiles at Varric, but does not start a conversation.  If Dareth delays in his mission now, he is not sure that he could finish it.  As he continues his march across the palace grounds, people continually call out to the Inquisitor – once again, he merely treats them to a smile or a wave before focusing his attention back on his vhenan. 

Dareth hears Dorian’s voice before he sees him, causing the elf to stop dead in his tracks; the tone is just as light and playful as Dareth remembers.  Taking a shaky breath, Dareth takes a few more steps before a column moves from his line of sight and he is able to see his vhenan.

The human mage is talking to an Orlesian – his outfit is less casual than Dareth remembers; Dorian’s left shoulder is still bare, but instead of the simple beige he used to sport, his clothes are white with flashes of green and orange.  The leathers are a darker brown than they used to be, but Dareth is sure they are just as easy to unclasp as the last. 

The Orlesian shakes his head saying, “Orlais is on your side, Lord Pavus.  The Inquisition’s support is not something to lose lightly.”

Dorian frowns.  “Which is why the Orlesian court is circling it with a net and collar?”

At this point, Dareth steps from the shadows and into Dorian’s sightline.

The Tevinter’s eyes widen.  “But you’ll have to excuse me,” he says lightly.  “I have an old friend to greet.”  He swiftly brushes past the man and comes to stand in front of Dareth, a broad smile on his face that could mean anything.  “Amatus!  Wading through all the pomp and circumstance, I see?” 

Instead of replying, Dareth throws his arms around Dorian and embraces the other man as tightly as he can.  “You’re back after being away in Tevinter for two years, and this is how you greet me?” the elf says in a small voice, doing his best not to betray too many emotions. 

Dorian returns Dareth’s hug just as warmly, resting his head against that of the shorter man.  He chuckles slightly and mutters, “I have an apology ready.”  Moving back a little, Dorian cups Dareth’s face and gently presses their lips together.

It is sweet and simple.

And at the same time it is rather full of longing and need and desperation for a kiss that lasts but a few seconds. 

When they pull apart, Dareth lets out a quiet laugh.  “I suppose that will have to do for now,” he says, a playful grin on his lips as he meets Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian sighs and bats his eyelashes.  “It is the best I can do at a time such as this, amatus.”

As much as he wishes to continue this conversation, Dareth understands that this is neither the place nor the time.  Instead, he takes a step back, once again establishing a moderately respectful distance between Dorian and himself.  “What have you learned about this council?” he asks.

“Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, the Chantry meddles, and Tevinter sends but one ambassador.  That’s me, by the way,” Dorian adds with a smirk.  “A ‘reward for my interest in the south.’  Thankfully, ‘Ambassador Pavus’ is a token appointment.  Call on me as you like.” 

“I might just call on you right now,” Dareth says, taking Dorian’s hand and interlocking their fingers, giving his vhenan’s hand a gentle squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> shhhh I know the dialogue says that it's only been a month since the Inquisitor and Dorian have seen each other, but I came up with this when I knew the general idea of Trespasser but hadn't played it yet and I love Angst™ so I had to
> 
> but this is the first time that I've, like, actually posted fic that I've written and it was only at the pressuring of my friends. Let me know what you think! :D


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